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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360953">crooked rivers and crooked men</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothervvoid/pseuds/Mothervvoid'>Mothervvoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Found Family, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Monologue, POV Second Person, References to the Antarctic Empire, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, no beta we die like schlatt, techno angst fans come get yall juice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothervvoid/pseuds/Mothervvoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[ <i>the path of least resistance leads to crooked rivers and crooked men.</i> - Henry David Thoreau ]</p><p>or, Techno takes a moment to <strike>rage</strike>lament the death of his retirement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>crooked rivers and crooked men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>there was a surprising lack of second person in this fandom so i took it upon myself to fix that. this is my first fic for this fandom and im pretty sure techno is ~wildly~ out of character but honestly i saw the opportunity to make a bunch of stupid references to divinity/godhood with him and well. i couldnt help myself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is something eerily similar to how you sink into the snow, how it chews your exposed hands as you press your palms into the biting cold. Carl noses you, sniffing at the dried blood anointing your temple. </p><p>You’ve tracked blood everywhere, desecrated the pure white of the snow with blood that both was, and was not your own. Your divinity proven, though not without effort on your part. The wounds sustained during your fight with Quackity still leak ichor and sting in the breeze.</p><p>Carl once again noses your forehead and it <i>throbs</i>, because that totem of undying had to have some kind of drawback, didn’t it? You hadn’t even noticed the splitting headache until you were rowing back to the frigid tundra that you now called home, supping on a rapidly fading adrenaline rush. </p><p>You pick yourself up, slowly, using Carl’s barding to pull yourself into a standing position. “Come on Carl,” You growl, deep in your throat; “Let’s go home.”</p><p>You don’t dwell on why this abrupt fall from grace feels so familiar. You know why the chill of the tundra feels so familiar, why the sensation of sinking into the snow was so welcome. </p><p>You’ve done this before, on shaking knees; sword falling to the wayside as you sink deep into the snow, body and mind numb to the cold. You must go down hard, because Philza is suddenly nearby, observing but not drawing too close. </p><p>He knows better than to come near the weakened Blood God. He stands, and he watches, and he waits. </p><p>Head pounding, the voices incensed. You had thought conquest would satiate them, lull them to sleep for a little while, but you were wrong. You’d merely wet their appetite.</p><p>
  <i>Blood, blood, e, blood for the Blood God, death--</i>
</p><p>It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it. No, you were born for this, born to fight, to conquer. To win. It was the exhaustion that had sunk into your bones so long after it was all said and done. That turned you into a mere worshipper at your own bloodied throne, and how bitter the taste of enervation was on the tongue of someone who swore he would never feel it.</p><p>You wanted to sleep.</p><p>But there was one glaring difference between then and now-- a <i>supplicant</i>, a friend; Philza. It wasn’t that he had done anything, it was that he had been there, standing in the snow right next to you. A person, a presence you could tolerate. Someone who understands you, or at least made attempts to.</p><p>Here, slumped over in Carl’s saddle, you’re alone.</p><p>You think back to the little declaration you made while you were rowing back to your frigid oasis, still riding the high of victory and righteous anger. <i>“Those that have treated me with kindness, I will repay that kindness tenfold and those that treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends; I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over.”</i></p><p>Philza had been kind to you. Philza befriended you, stood by you, treated you like an equal. He wasn’t even afraid of you, at least to the best of your knowledge. Phil, who indulged your plans no matter how unlikely, or crazy they sounded. Phil, who helped you after Pogtopia fell through. Who wrapped you in his coat in the middle of the freezing arctic and forced you to sleep.</p><p>You try to tell yourself you could have handled this had it just been you (the voices say otherwise, hissing and snapping; <i>‘blood for the blood god, who makes god bleed?’</i>), but involving your only friend had crossed a line. You hope the sweet scent of the venerated was worth it, because it would never hang in the air again. </p><p>Bile rises in your throat like rage, and tastes twice as acrid.</p><p>You need to rescue Philza.</p>
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